Promises Kept
by Kazuman21
Summary: Larry promises to make everything up to Ronnie after the incident. He agrees to take care of Ronnie as he recovers, but is that all this job entails? Post-movie RonnieXLarry SLASH! Rated M for later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

He heard the constant rhythmic mechanical beeps that echoed through the stark white room; the soft breaths that crawled out of thin unconscious lips; the occasional rustle of the starched hospital sheets, each noise burrowing into his psyche leaving grimy stains of guilt on the lobes of his brain. He shifted in the uncomfortable wooden chair, the squeaky faux leather whimpering under his weight. Letting gravity do the rest of the work, Larry slowly sank; his back caving into the empty space.

He most vividly recalled the bright red blood on the groin of the sleeping man. It was hard to forget. The air had been cooled by the velvety night and smelt of cut grass and an impending rain, but none of those details clung to Larry's brain like the oozing blood that seeped into the fabric of Ronnie's underwear. Panic had boiled up inside his chest. "No! No, not again! Not another one," he worried in his mind. The blonde's hand would not be sullied with another human's blood. He was stained enough.

Picking up the scrawny man as if he were only a rag doll a child might play with, albeit the coagulating blood and missing appendage, Larry carried Ronnie off to the van, guilt soaking his thoughts as he ran through the abandoned playground shrouded in darkness. The van's dirty side doors were swiftly tore open and an unconscious Ronnie placed inside, Larry laying the slender man down, lowering his head with the utmost care. The blonde quickly grabbed a flannel blanket from the dark recesses of his van. Why was he putting a blanket over a bleeding man? Larry's mind spun at a delirious pace. Securing the blanket around Ronnie's jagged frame, he thought perhaps the blanket symbolized the comfort he was attempting to give the bleeding man, but a voice crept in through the back door of his mind, "How could a man who's ruthlessly stolen everything from him possibly comfort him?" The retired police officer's heart sank as he shoved the key into the ignition. He couldn't. The sulking figure in the hospital knew he could never make right what he had wronged. Starring at Ronnie's dozing figure under the mass of cheap hospital sheets, Larry knew he had to try; if not for Ronnie's sake then for his own. Guilt alone would kill him.

The mechanical beeps continued, the soft breaths, the occasional rustling of the sheets, but then there was a weak raspy murmur that escaped from the man's lips. Larry's attention was instantly pulled into reality, the depressing haze of his thoughts dissipating like a morning fog.

"Hey Ronnie," Larry spoke in a half yawn as he stretched the tension out of his body, resuming an upright position in his chair.

The smaller man's sharp figure froze at the sound of the blonde's sleep laced voice. Not the police officer. He couldn't be here. Ronnie's head pounded in a murderous fashion as his mind swirled with thoughts. Where was he? Suddenly the hospital air met his nose. Ronnie's expression screwed up into one of disgust. It smelt of strong chemicals and reminded him of death. Apparently the blonde had dragged him to the hospital after he collapsed. Ronnie grimaced. The man who hurt his mommy now sat at his bedside. "I'd rather be dead," he growled in his mind.

Ronnie's head moved sluggishly to peer over his shoulder. Narrowing his intense blue eyes, he pursed his lips into a tight frown. "What are _you_ doing here?" the scrawny man hissed turning his head away from Larry in an almost child like act of spite.

Larry gripped his knees with large calloused hands as he heard Ronnie's words spat at him in a bitter tone. "I'm," Larry cleared his throat, "I'm here to help."

"I think you've helped enough," Ronnie grunted with venom lacing his voice.

Larry exhaled and sank back into the chair, defeated. He was aware of how much mental havoc he'd caused the man who lay before him. The only person Ronnie loved and trusted (and possibly the only person who reciprocated those feelings) was sent to the hospital by the reckless blonde, only to die shortly after. It was his entire fault. Ronnie's death had almost been added to the list, but luckily Larry had reached the hospital before he had bled to death from the lacerations. The blonde didn't expect Ronnie to open up loving arms and forgive or trust him, but the retired police officer needed it. He needed Ronnie to forgive him before he could forgive himself. Larry was willing to do whatever it took to receive his pardon.

Reaching out to a small bedside table, Larry grabbed a small stack of papers that leaned against a pastel green lamp. "You were in critical condition when I brought you here. You bled a lot, man," he explained as he flipped through the medical papers.

Ronnie let out an incredulous chuckle earning a grimace form Larry. His mood was becoming laced with irritation as Ronnie blew him off for the second time. Inhaling deeply, Larry reminded himself to calm down. Ronnie's resentful attitude was justified in every way imaginable. With an alleviating sigh, Larry continued. "They, uh, rushed you into surgery to stop the bleeding. They weren't able to salvage your, uh, y'know… penis, but they kept as much of it as they could. The nurse told me it would probably take you a little over a month to heal completely. They also told me to, uh, to tell you that they're willing to talk about your _options_ when you've healed all the way."

Ronnie grunted. "I know what you think about this. Don't pretend to care. You're glad it's gone. Now I can't hurt anyone. I'm not a danger to society," he lectured while huddling beneath his covers.

Larry groaned inwardly. If that event had occurred any other day in the past he would have been openly exuberant, but now that he knew what pain he'd caused with his self righteous marauding through Ronnie's life, he'd never think it again.

"No, I don't think that. God, Ronnie, I hurt you so bad. I drove you to _this_!" he exclaimed indicating the injured smaller man. "You may not believe me, but all I want to do is help. I need to try and make things right."

There was silence for a lingering moment until Ronnie rolled over to face the man who had ruined his life. The brunet was a wreck form the loss of blood and seemed to struggle against the binding grip of the white sheets. Ronnie's face was utterly pale, his lip the dead hue of light purple, and small glistening beads of sweat that clung to his skin. Larry gulped nervously. Ronnie's gaze was so intense that it halted the retired police officer's heart beat.

"_You _need to make things right?" Ronnie hissed with a seething voice. "You hurt my mommy. How are you going to fix that?" he growled in his unnaturally innocent voice.

A long exhausted sigh came from Larry as his head lolled forward. What was he supposed to say to that? 'Let me wash your dishes for you' just didn't seem to cut it. "Let me take care of you while you recover," he offered weakly. It was the best he could do.

Ronnie smacked his lips dryly, appearing as if he was rolling the idea in his mouth, preparing to digest the generous notion. He glanced up at the retired police officer and starred into his eyes. He could see the blood shot white surrounding a pool of brown. It was obvious he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a few days. Worry seeped out of the blonde's pores along with a distinct scent. Larry seemed to be missing more than just his sleep. Ronnie didn't trust the man who had hurt his mommy and tormented him constantly, but the bitter truth was no one else was there to help him recover. The dull throbbing pain in his groin alone told him he wouldn't be able to travel about his house freely, only making his situation that much more dependant on the man sitting next to him. For now, and he stressed for now, he'd take the police officer up on his officer.

"I need some water," Ronnie mumbled hoarsely.

The hospitalized man hadn't answered yes or no to his proposition, but Larry knew how to read between the lines. Jumping to his feet quickly, the blonde grabbed a small plastic cup off the top of a tower of many. Using a tan pitcher, he filled the open mouth, perspiration slowly building onto the plastic.

"Here ya go," Larry said passing the frigid cup to the injured man. The brunet sipped at the contents gingerly, not giving Larry the satisfaction of a thank you.

Larry towered over Ronnie's hospital bed for a brief moment before receding back into his chair. Little by little he would try and out weigh his sins with good deeds. Perhaps, one day, Ronnie would forgive him, but until then the retired police officer would bend over backwards to please the man he had destroyed.

"Thank you," Larry said under his breath.

* * *

Black silence consumed the room. A steady fragile tongue of moon light lapped at the shattered glass and porcelain figures that graced the hardwood floor. The broken figurines starred off into the darkness with broken smiles and cracked skulls. It was an eerie sight and the faint smell of blood wafted in the air. Outside the angry remnants of destruction a van pulled beside the curb. A shadowed figure trotted around to the side doors, opening them and pulling out a metal contraption. Rustling the man's clothing, a soft breeze blew as the passenger door flung open nearly hitting the shadowed figure in the face. An angry grumble ensued, but a response never came. A thin frame was lowered into the metal wheel chair and pushed to the front door of the house at a slow speed. The entrance's doorknob rattled before swinging open. Larry sauntered into the room. The silence consumed him and ebbed away at his nerves. To his right he could see the glittering pieces of jagged porcelain.

"Where's the light switch?" Larry questioned before clearing a lump of unease in his throat.

A voice came from behind the tall man, "To the left. No, where your hand used to- no other way. Right there," Ronnie explained as Larry's hands roamed over the wall uncouthly. The switch was flipped and light illuminated the grim scene Ronnie had left behind. Larry's eyes darted around the room in a dark sense of amazement. Figurines and clocks lay broken and scattered on the floor, a trail of blood droplets traveled from the kitchen, past Larry, and through the front door in a serpentine shape. Larry resisted the urge to turn around towards Ronnie and gawk at the smaller man, but better instinct told him to leave it be. These wounds on Ronnie's heart were real and recent.

Walking back outside, Larry gripped the clammy rubber handles to Ronnie's wheelchair and pushed him back inside the destruction he had left. Ronnie's countenance was cold and empty as Larry pushed through the broken wreckage towards the large brown armchair. Was Ronnie really not affected by all this? No, Ronnie was human. He knew this was tearing the brunet up inside like a razorblade milkshake.

"Do you want to watch TV?" Larry asked stopping the chair beside the recliner.

"Hn," Larry answered tight lipped giving a slight nod.

Larry traveled around to face Ronnie. He could see the pain in his eyes as he lifted him up out of the chair. It broke he retired police man's heart to see that kind of agony in a person's soul. He had remembered that same look in the eyes of the boy's parents. Larry mentally shook himself out of his thoughts. He didn't need to go there tonight. Setting Ronnie down, Larry exhaled. The petite man was heavier when he was conscious. Ronnie's thin wiry fingers reached over to a small table beside the chair and grabbed a long black remote.

"I'll leave you to watch TV. I'm gonna clean up," Larry explained leaving the room and walking to the kitchen. As soon as Larry reached the kitchen, he collapsed against the counter. All that disarray was his fault. He knew it. He could see it in the sheer loathing he felt off every glimpse Ronnie sent him. It must have been soon after his mother died. Ronnie had lost it, turning his burning emotions into violence against the mocking porcelain faces and ticking clocks. The blonde lowered his head in shame. His breath hitched in his throat as he saw a brown dried pool of blood a few feet from where he stood.

"Oh, God," he stuttered with tears forming in his eyes. He felt disgusting, like he did after killing the innocent boy. Cold guilt crept up his body and gripped his mind. What could _he_ possibly do to make this tragedy bearable for Ronnie?

Glancing to his left, Larry spotted a rag by the sink. That's right. He had come to the kitchen with the intention of cleaning. Reaching out a shaking hand, the blonde grasped the rag and soaked it in the faucet's spray. The blood starred up at Larry, thick and coagulated. A muffled thud emitted from the padded linoleum as he dropped to his knees and began scrubbing at the brown pool.

* * *

Long hours passed as the devoted man cleansed the house of previous events, but he couldn't wash the sick feeling from the pit of his stomach. Each blood droplet scrubbed off the floor caused Larry's bottom lips to quiver in remorse. Each porcelain doll gawked up at him with a mocking smile and happy glistening eyes. The retired police officer had half the mind to break them all again, but he knew it would accomplish nothing. He tossed the bloody rag into the kitchen sink and carried out a hefty bag of trash. When he returned to the living room, he tuned in to the soft sound of Ronnie's sleeping breaths.

"I guess he fell asleep," Larry thought ambling over to the second recliner and plopping down.

Larry watched the TV screen as the pictures moved and slapstick comedy was attempted, but his attention slowly drifted the sleeping man. Ronnie was completely relaxed, his head lolled to his right shoulder and lips slightly parted to allow him to breathe easily. He looked innocent. Larry grumbled under his breath. Ronnie was everything but innocent. He had exposed himself to a child! That child was innocent, not Ronnie. He continued to gaze upon the smaller man, baffled by how someone so fucked in the head and ugly could possibly look innocent. He growled at himself. It was a stupid train of thought, but his mind clung to how docile Ronnie seemed. He must have been good at one point. What had compelled him to expose himself to a child? Larry had been known to flash ladies back when he was a teenager, but that was a joke, they were adults who had already seen one, no harm done. The child on the other hand had something pure, they'd never seen a penis, probably didn't understand their own genitalia. Larry worried his bottom lip. Something had to have made him this way. You aren't born sick.

"Ronnie McGovery, known to this small town as its number one threat," the television spoke. Larry turned his attention to the screen again. A small woman with flowing brown locks sat donned in a red dress suit. Larry continued listening intently, "… was hospitalized late Thursday night with a critical injury. Doctors have refused to comment on the injury, but the town seems to be at rest because of the news." The screen cut to a woman with a large build and scraggily blonde hair. "I'm glad he's off the streets. Hopefully someone did the right thing and castrated him," she grunted. Larry grimaced at the woman's words. If only she knew. A tall handsome tan man appeared on the screen. "Shit, Brad?" Larry sputtered as he leaned forward in his chair.

"He's a danger to the children of our community. I was there when he came to the public pool. I'm gad he's off the streets for the time being," Brad commented in a placid tone.

A small grunt drifted to Larry's ears from the other chair. The hair on the back of the blonde's head stood on end. He glanced over at the small man and saw his grim expression in place of his sleeping one. Larry's heart raced as he leaned forward swiftly, turning the TV off manually.

"What was that?" Ronnie asked coolly.

"Er, nothing." Larry responded slumping back into the recliner.

"I know it was about me. You don't have to lie," the brunette commented.

Larry licked his front teeth nervously. Ronnie was in a terrible condition to begin with, he didn't need to know the entire town was rejoicing at the fact he'd been injured. "Let's get you to bed. You look tired," Larry interjected, off topic.

Ronnie gave Larry an incredulous glace. "Fine," he sighed bitterly.

Explaining where his room was located, Ronnie directed Larry to aid him up the stairs. The blonde slung Ronnie's arm over his shoulder and hoisted him up with a labored grunt. The man had practically no strength as they ascended the stairs at a sluggish pace.

"The room's at the end of the hallway," Ronnie said in exhausted spurts. Just climbing the stairs had taken a toll on his weary body. Obliging the smaller man, Larry led Ronnie to the room at the end of the hall, each step reverberating through the corridor softly.

"Where are you going to sleep?" Ronnie asked wearily as they entered the blandly decorated room.

"I was thinking of taking that one by the bathroom," Larry responded laying the weak man down on his bed.

Ronnie's eye bulged and his frame went rigid. "NO! You can't sleep there. That's mommy's room," he stuttered as if the retired police officer was threatening him with a knife. He sprung forward and sat up, instantly extracting a pained wince from the small man.

"I'll sleep on the couch. Just calm down, okay?" Larry reassured pushing Ronnie back into the bed gently.

Ronnie inhaled deeply, his eye heavy lidded with sleep. "Not," Ronnie muttered as he slowly began to drift into an exhaustion induced slumber, "not mommy's room." Larry sent the dozing man a curious glance. What was all this mommy stuff about? The woman was dead. Perhaps Ronnie hadn't come to terms with his mother's death. Ronnie had been through enough, so he'd oblige for now. The blonde grabbed a thick blanket and secured it around the man's slender frame. In a way he felt like a mother hen. Chuckling, Larry padded to the door and turned off the lights.


	2. Chapter 2

Usually a man wakes up to the soft sunlight peeking in through the curtains of their room, perhaps the symphony of chirping birds that sit on the wispy branches outside their window, however, in Larry's case, he was awoken by a monstrous cacophony of clocks. The coo-coos shrieked with a high pitch that rang through the blonde's sleeping ears, the grandfather clocks bellowed with authority, while the shouting of the other clocks competed to see who could be the most annoying. The frail glass of sleep was shattered by the noise as Larry's eyes sprang open. The cacophony continued until the eighth and final chime rang clear from each clock. Clenching his eyes shut to will away the ringing in his ears, Larry rose to his feet.

Even though Larry had awoken completely, his dream still clung to his brain. He had been sitting in the wide firm recliner a few feet from where Ronnie snored soundly. The retired police officer peered at the injured man; clothing hung loosely from his boney frame as he slept, relaxed into the large chair that made the man seem smaller than he actually was. Larry sighed and directed his attention to the TV screen. The program played, spraying a Morse code of light onto the blonde's facial features. He couldn't recall what show had been playing, or if it had been a show at all, but, suddenly, Ronnie's thin angular face appeared on the screen.

Larry's jaw fell as he gawked at the TV screen. "R-Ronnie?" he had stuttered leaning forward in his seat. The smaller man's expression was grim; thick brows furrowed with distaste, thin lips pursed shut, and unearthly blue eyes burrowing into his soul. Larry gulped a wad of unease down his throat.

"You're a bad man, Larry," the brunette stated in his child like tone sending a chill down Larry's spine. Ronnie couldn't be talking to him on the TV if he was sitting a mere three feet from him, Larry thought. The blonde turned his head swiftly to see if Ronnie was still dozing in the recliner, but his brown eyes were met with the injured man's scrawny figure standing a foot away. Larry starred at the small man in shock and horror as he noticed the crimson liquid collecting and dripping down Ronnie's pants.

Ronnie's bleeding figure smiled in a twisted fashion. "Just like me," he chirped eerily as his eyes seared Larry's skin. "You hurt a kid like I did, but you killed him Larry. You killed an innocent child, so why pick on me?" Ronnie whimpered. Raising his wiry hands, the pedophile began to scratch at his skin, dirty nails digging into pale flesh until chunks fell and blood poured from his wounds. Larry starred in utter horror unable to look away.

"They should castrate him," the TV anchor woman quipped from behind. Ronnie gazed at Larry, strips of flesh removed from his face exposing bare muscle, but those blue eyes peered through the bloody destruction and into Larry. "Nice and quick," the unrecognizable mouth gurgled heavily. A think snipping noise emitted from the shredded lips followed by a murderous cackle. Suddenly Larry felt an unbearable pain in his wrists. Gazing down in terror, Larry soaked in the gory sight of gashes appearing on his wrists, blood oozing from the fresh orifices.

"How can Ronnie wake up to that every morning?" Larry growled, his expression a venomous grimace as he averted his mind from the grotesque images of his dream. It was easier to channel his unease into anger towards the uproar he'd witnessed waking up than to ponder the meaning of his nightmare. He ran a heavy hand down the front of his face wiping away whatever crust or slime had made their home there. He groaned. His life didn't seem to offer him pleasure anymore, just emotional anguish. Perhaps facing another nightmare would be a better alternative to reality. Frowning, Larry remembered there was no other choice than to wake up. He was a man that, once awake, couldn't go back to sleep, not that he was eagerly anticipating the next time he slept. It was all because of those damn clocks, Larry blamed in his mind. He wouldn't acknowledge the gratitude he held for the ticking contraptions that woke him. However, waking up to the ruckus that literally caused his heart to jump into his throat was something he didn't want to experience every morning. Those clocks would either end up destroyed or turned off for good.

Hunch backed and groggy, Larry padded his way to the kitchen. On entering, his nose was met with the poignant scent of bleach. The image of him scrubbing dry caked on blood off the linoleum floor sprang to his mind instantly. The blonde's face screwed up into an expression of disgust. Sauntering to the sink, Larry avoided the blood spot even though it had disappeared after the cleaning. It was just too close to the idea of Ronnie's death. He didn't want to ever think about that again. He turned on the water and cupped his hands under the cool flow of the crystal clear liquid. Sipping at it gingerly, Larry drained the water from his cupped palms.

"All this stress is giving me insane dreams," Larry murmured splashing the remaining liquid onto his face. Larry's ears perked to the sound of a dull thump up stairs. "Ronnie?" Larry thought in his mind, worry seeping into his veins. How he'd come to worry about the smaller man so much, he didn't know. He assumed it was the traumatizing situations the blonde had forced Ronnie through, the overpowering sense of guilt he felt every time he looked at the injured man. As he ascended the stairs, he didn't need an excuse for his actions. Ronnie was his responsibility.

Gripping the cold metal door handle, Larry opened the door. "You okay Ronnie? I heard a thud," his voice stopped in his throat as he gazed at the purple swollen stub in between Ronnie's skinny thighs. "Oh, fuck dude. I'm sorry," Larry spoke quickly averting his eyes from the evidence of the smaller man's emotional pain.

"I'm changing the bandages," Ronnie muttered groggily as he pulled a roll of white gauze and medical tape from a small tan bin. He unraveled the gauze and folded it over three times. Deeming it thick enough, the brunet placed the fluffy wad on top of his mangled member and secured it to his body with medical tape. He glanced over at the tall blonde and frowned. Larry was looking away as if he had seen Ronnie's penis. The fact of the matter was that he didn't possess that organ anymore. Larry had nothing to look ashamed about.

"C-could I get you anything?" the blonde asked timidly slowly bringing his head around to look at Ronnie as he spoke.

"No there isn't," Ronnie retorted pulling his flannel pajama pants up from their crumpled place around his ankles.

Nodding, Larry rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. His stomach felt sick. The sight of Ronnie's _injury_ had given Larry an entirely new perspective of his sin. He couldn't handle it. Not any more. Bending over the toilet, Larry vomited the contents of his empty stomach forcefully into the basin. He wanted to leave; go home to the life he had before any of this had happened. He wanted his job and his wife back. Tears swelled in the blonde's eyes as he heaved once again sending an orange slimy spew into the toilet. He wanted his sanity back.


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks of close quarters with the man he had once loathed brought emotional epiphanies. Ronnie sat in his brown recliner, chin resting in the palm of his hand. The boney framed man's first impression of Larry had been that of a pushy, self righteous, 'my way or the highway' kind of guy who had no problem ruining people's lives in his conquest for social purity. Perhaps the blond _was_ pushy, but the more time Ronnie had spent with him the more he realized that Larry knew his flaws, feared them to be exact. He was no more self righteous than Ronnie himself, but as a retired police officer, he had the overwhelming instinct to protect. At first, that instinct had caused Larry to deal out his fair share of damage, but Ronnie witnessed as over the few weeks they'd been together, he'd learned to harness it, focusing his energy, not to fight the world around him, but to fix what he'd wronged.

He prepared Ronnie's meals as best he could and catered to his every need. Ronnie's face displayed a small smirk as he recalled the first time Larry had attempted to cook a meal for him. The frail brunet had been lying in his bed incapacitated by the pain in his groin at the time. He had stayed in his room exclusively to avoid Larry, but the blond frequently poked his head through the sliver of space between the door and the frame to check up on him or prattle on pointlessly. Ronnie grumbled. The blond had become more of an annoyance than a help. Sighing, he burrowed his body further into the encompassing bulk of his quilts. His body was tired and he was more than willing to indulge his need for rest.

Slightly slipping into the weariness that gripped him, Ronnie's nose picked up on the subtle scent of smoke. His eyes pried themselves open slowly as he took in another whiff, the scent stronger than before. Ronnie's heart raced in alarm as he imagined the house he'd grown up in, where he had lived with his beloved mother, burned to the ground. He wiled himself out of the bed despite the immense amount of pain burning in his lower body. Hissing, he dragged himself down to the first floor. Black smoke clung to the ceiling. Ronnie followed the trail of smoke with his eyes, noticing it was seeping from the kitchen. Limping forward, he peered inside, his tired body forcing him to rest against the door frame.

Ronnie peered through the smoke; his eyes glazed and exhausted pants escaping his lips. Larry was fanning a dish rag against a pan billowing with smoke frantically. He grabbed a metal lid and placed it on the burning pan quickly, abating the smoke temporarily. Larry turned, a fake smile gracing his lips as he noticed Ronnie's frail figure watching him intensely.

"Oh, hey," Larry spoke sheepishly as he waved the rag around again to clear the air. "I was trying to make you something to eat." Leaning over the sink basin, Larry pried open the kitchen window.

As the smoke exited out the opening in plumes, Ronnie starred at the covered pan incredulously. "I'm not eating it," he had grumbled. A shot of searing pain shot up his back causing the wiry man to curl into the sensation with a hiss. As soon as he had doubled over, Larry had been at his side guiding him to a chair beside the kitchen table.

"Take it easy bud. Why are you down here anyways?" he questioned aiding Ronnie in the task of lowering himself into the chair.

"I thought the house was on fire," he winced.

"Yeah. Sorry about that. I could make you something else," he offered ambling over to the pantry and opening it to reveal various canned foods and brightly colored boxes. Ronnie grimaced. He wasn't confident in Larry's cooking skills.

"I'll take something that you don't have to cook," he had mocked.

Ronnie had expected a flare of anger form the tall blond, but the reaction was a chuckle. Larry smiled and grabbed a large red box from the pantry. "Cereal it is," he beamed.

Sinking further into his brown recliner, Ronnie chuckled at the memory. That had been the first time sympathy and a sense of admiration had edged into his opinion of Larry. He had been reluctant at first to explore his friendship with the taller man, but as time wore on, he couldn't avoid it. He enjoyed Larry's company. Beneath his brutish exterior was a man who only wanted what was best for those around him. Ronnie had also been surprised by Larry's astounding sense of humor. The brunet would admit to stifling a chuckle or two, but only to keep himself from allowing Larry a sense of ease around him. Clandestinely, he would smile at the man's comical gestures and use of sarcasm. It was the first time in a long time that Ronnie had befriended someone his own age.

Ronnie grunted as he stood from his recliner. The pain had ebbed away with time and he was now able to walk, but simple tasks were still difficult. He raised his arms over his head and stretched, letting out a hearty yawn. He briefly wondered where Larry was, but when he heard a growling in his stomach, he dismissed the thought, focusing his little energy on the more pressing matter of hunger.

"Might as well go munch on something," he thought as he smacked his lips dryly.

Ambling to the wide yawning mouth of a doorway, Ronnie held his abdomen in a weak attempt to subdue his growling stomach. The brunet hobbled inside the creamy white room with cluttered counters, his steely blue eyes instantly falling on the gaunt blond who sat at the round dinner table. He fought the inclination to smile at the other man.

Larry poked at his meal with his spoon then continued by folding the dry puffs of cereal into the milk. The small man's abdomen gurgled at the tempting sight. Larry glanced down at Ronnie's stomach dully, his eye half lidded and light caterpillar eyebrows peaked in interest. "You hungry?" he questioned with amusement lacing his voice.

Ronnie pouted unintentionally as he peered down at his belly. "Yeah," he murmured almost shamefully, "I haven't eaten today." The empty organ growled once again and sent a hollow rattle up his throat. He was _really_ hungry.

"There's only cereal," Larry commented grabbing a bright red box and shaking it indicatively. Putting the box down, the retired police officer resumed the consumption of the crunchy spheres by bringing a full spoon to his mouth. Ronnie didn't want cereal. He'd had the grainy orbs as sustenance for the past two days; they're crunchy consistency and overbearing sweetness unpleasing to his palate after the first day. "Is there anything else?" he questioned with disdain.

"Nah, this is the only edible thing," Larry said sloshing his spoon about his bowl. "I'll have to go get some food at the store," he added before eating another mouth full; practically teasing Ronnie.

Spinning on the ball of his heel, Ronnie turned away from Larry and padded towards the cluttered counter. Ronnie stared down at a ceramic pig dawning a baker's outfit, wooden spoon in hand. Its beady eyes raked across Ronnie's skin making him uneasy. He'd never enjoyed his mother's ceramics; daunting smiles following him from room to room. The slender man's hands shot out and reached behind the menacing figure, his boney fingers groping for the object of his interest. Once the rectangular booklet had been retrieved, Ronnie averted his eyes from the pig and turned his back to it indignantly.

"Use my checkbook. I'm getting paid leave for my injury," he muttered tossing the leather navy booklet on the table in front of the eating blond.

"You have a job?" Larry asked around a full mouth.

"Yes," Ronnie hissed with furrowed eyebrows, "people hire sickos like me."

Larry swallowed abruptly, almost choking on the conglomerate of 'whole grain' sugar puffs. He had only meant the question as an innocent way to gain more insight into the smaller man's life, but he'd ended up offending him. Willing the rest of the food down his throat, Larry sputtered his ill prepared rebuttal, "That's not what I meant!" Perhaps Larry was too much on the offensive or Ronnie was on the defensive, but the tension in the room was palpable. Slowly the muscles in Larry's back began to relax and he reclined back into the support of the wooden chair. He would not argue with Ronnie.

Ronnie's startling blue eyes gazed at the blonde's slumped figure in sympathy. He knew the gaunt man meant no harm by his words. Ronnie was on edge, that was all. A small smirk grew on his face and he placed a thin pale hand on the table top near Larry. "I'm a janitor at a university," he spoke calmly. Larry didn't deserve Ronnie's high strung negative attitude. By Ronnie's book, they were friends now, he could spare him the benefit of the doubt.

"Oh," Larry mused hiding his peaked interest. At a university, huh? Larry entertained the thought of Ronnie walking past a large chalkboard with a mind boggling amount of calculations, unfinished of course. He imagined the small wiry fingers curling around and piece of chalk and solving the equation as if it were child's play. "Good Will Hunting?" he joked inside his head.

"And I'm hungry," Ronnie stated interrupting Larry's thoughts, a smile painted onto his countenance. It was his weak attempt and situational humor and it worked, a similar smirk creping its way into Larry's expression. The elation that tugged at Larry's lips in turn tugged at Ronnie's heart strings. Despite the smaller man snapping at him, Larry still continued with a bright demeanor, such a smooth temper for a man who had publicly ridiculed him. It made Ronnie feel as if he was taking advantage of Larry's kindness, as if he were changing the man to suit his plight. Ronnie willed the thoughts away. From small hints he'd picked up during their conversations, he knew Larry used him for the exact same thing: an escape. Ronnie used Larry as an escape from the consuming silence and the reality that threatened to destroy him from the inside out and he didn't seem to mind. He, in turn, used Ronnie to escape the daunting fact of his failed marriage and creeping sins of the past. They were useful to one another, a cure of some kind to the other's loneliness. The smaller man's mirror logic kept the guilt at bay for the time being.

"I'll go right now Good Will Hunting," Larry joked, chortle mixed with his words. He gripped the leather checkbook in his grasp and stood causing the wooden chair to skid back on the floor.

"See you later," Ronnie said as Larry walked past him, his feet padding softly against the linoleum, the scent of his cologne drifting from Larry's skin and into Ronnie's nose. Ronnie breathed it in and unconsciously followed Larry into the mudroom, lured by the tantalizing aroma. Larry's tall figure bent over and reached for his pair of ragged sneakers. Ronnie admired his frame, tall and sturdy, everything a cop should be. He had wide shoulders, a broad triangular chest that led down to his narrow hips. Ronnie allowed his eyes to roam; he'd never denied being a pervert. Despite the blonde's age, he had a very sculpted rear that caused a round bump in his sweat pants. The man also had surprisingly long legs. Ronnie imagined the taunt muscles beneath the fabric, that was, until he noticed Larry had turned around as was now staring at him in a quizzical manner.

"Something up Ron?" Larry questioned; the unease hardly present. The fact hadn't even occurred to the retire cop that he'd just been physically examined by the smaller man.

"I-" Ronnie stumbled as he crashed head on into reality, "I want bologna." Mentally, he chastised himself. Bologna? He hated bologna! However, on such short notice, it was the best cop out he could muster for the blond.

"Yeah, sure, I'll get some bologna," Larry replied. He put his large hands on his hips and exhaled loudly. "K. See ya later," he said then exited the room just as oblivious and docile as he'd been the entire morning.

Ronnie smiled to himself and walked to the broad wooden door. He glanced down at a small little knob and turned it sideways, locking the front entrance. So, he'd fallen into lust with the man who'd rearranged him life. It didn't surprise him. He'd always been a sucker for things he could never obtain. A straight, retired cop was one of those things. He, of course, wouldn't be able to cuddle with the taller man or feast on his thin pale lips, but gazing would suffice for now. His eye's feast had curbed his sexual appetite for the time being. However, the smaller man was excited to see what other acts of indulgence he could get away with.


End file.
